Turn It Into Magic

"Hey Ginger-"

"Shut up."

"Hey Gingy-"

"Shut up."

"Hey Fishy-"

"Shut up."

"Hey Kenny-"

"WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP?!"

"Fucking Christ, Ginger, I was just gonna ask for a pencil."

Ginger's lip twitched as he reached over to the coffee table, snatched a pencil from it, and slammed it into Pogo's greedy hands. Pogo laughed triumphantly as he used the pencil to begin a drawing on the back of a police report.

You see, Abigail and Elizabeth had gone off on a much needed shopping trip. They left Ginger to babysit and assumed everything would be fine. Since it was before noon, only two people were awake, and Pogo had already annoyed Ginger to the point where he felt the need to strangle something.

"Don't peek, dick! You'll get to see when I'm done," Pogo exclaimed, leaning away from Ginger. Ginger sighed and sat back, but still had to admit Pogo looked almost childlike, sitting cross-legged on the floor in his blue and white striped pajama set with 'POGO' stitched onto the breast pocket. His hair wasn't spiked yet, but it still stuck up all over his head in little tufts. He had a huge grin on his face and he looked completely immersed in whatever this drawing was.

Ginger resisted the temptation to look again and settled back into the chair. He picked up his book and began to read, continuing on with the 'adult' story he was reading. Just as he began getting into the story, he felt a presence next to his chair and turned his head slowly to see Pogo kneeling down by the arm of his chair, his grin even wider and a mischievous glint in his eyes. Ginger sighed, marked his place in his book, and set it down on the coffee table.

"I finished my picture," Pogo announced. "Do you want to see it?"

"No."

"Too bad, you have to see it."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. I drew it for you! See?" Pogo shoved the picture right in Ginger's face, pointing to a few words scrawled at the top of the page. They said, 'To Ginger Love Pogo!'

"Fine," Ginger sighed. He took the picture and looked at it. It was a picture of Marilyn from behind while he was wearing his revealing women's lingerie. Pogo had drawn an arrow to his ass, with 'HOLYSHIT, EW' written next to it and 'MARILYN'S NASTY ASS' written at the top. Ginger rolled his eyes and handed it back.

"No, no, you didn't see the rest of it!" Pogo pushed the picture back at Marilyn and pointed to a drawing in the top left hand corner. Ginger looked hesitantly. This one was of Twiggy, drooling at 'Marilyn.' Ginger tried again to hand the picture back to Pogo.

"Wait, wait, wait, there's one more!" Pogo pointed to a picture in the bottom left hand corner. Here, Pogo drew a naked picture of himself in great detail. Written next to it was 'POGO IS SEXY.'

"POGO!" Ginger exclaimed, thrusting the picture back into Pogo's hands. Pogo cackled and ducked away from the swing of Ginger's fist. He scurried across the floor and stopped mid-journey when the door to their 'living room' swung open. Twiggy walked in wearing a heavy white nightgown.

"Morning Ginger, and...Pogo..." Twiggy trailed off, as if confused by the fact the Pogo had resumed crawling around. Twiggy sat down in a chair just a little ways away from Ginger's.

"Twiggy, you've got to see this picture," Pogo said, scuttling over to Twiggy on his knees. He dropped the picture in Twiggy's lap. Twiggy burst out laughing that the picture of himself and Pogo, but stopped cold.

"Marilyn's ass is not nasty!" Twiggy defended, throwing the picture off to the side.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Yes. It. Is!" Pogo shot back, crawling over to the place where the paper had fluttered to the ground. "Sometimes my eyes bleed just thinking about it!"

"Well, I happen to like it," Twiggy said, crossing his arms over his chest. Pogo sat on his butt again and looked at Twiggy like he was crazy before shaking his head.

"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," Pogo stated, picking up the picture and dusting it off. "Where is Marilyn, anyway?"

"Sleeping. It was a long night," Twiggy giggled. Ginger closed his book once again, knowing that as long as he was stuck around these people, he would get no reading done, especially when the topic of Twiggy and Marilyn came up.

"Oh, I see. So I'm assuming you...y'know." Pogo thrust his hips forward, making Twiggy giggle again.

"Yup. He's not used to that," Twiggy snickered. Pogo laughed along with him while Ginger gripped the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sure Abi and Elizabeth would have loved that," Pogo mused, rolling onto his back. "Oh, and Twiggy, if you're not wearing anything underneath that, I would really appreciate it if you put some pants on. Since I'm on the floor and all."

"Since when has that been a problem for you before?" Twiggy asked. Pogo shot up, looking horrified.

"WE AGREED NEVER TO SPEAK OF THAT AGAIN!" he shouted, dramatically pointing a finger at Twiggy. Twiggy snickered at Pogo's face and Ginger watched in confusion.

"It's not what it-"

"It's exactly what it sounds like," Twiggy grinned. Pogo's mouth dropped open and he gaped at Twiggy, not knowing what to do. As the room filled with tension and awkwardness, the door swung open again. In the doorway stood John, wearing black pajama bottoms with little heart designs on it and no shirt.

"What's going on? Where'd you go, Ginger? I was cold," he complained as he plopped down on a chair.

"John, you have to look at my picture!" Pogo said, crawling over to John sitting on the couch. John took the picture from Pogo's hands, looked at it, and burst out into near hysterical laughter.

"Pogo...man, this is great!" he exclaimed, handing it back to Pogo. "You should get it framed."

"See? John actually has a sense of humor, unlike you guys," Pogo said, glaring at everyone else. John seemed quite entranced by Pogo's messy hair. He reached his hand out to fix it before he quickly drew it back again.

"Pogo, c'mere," he said quietly. Pogo stopped debating the pro's and con's of Marilyn's ass with Twiggy long enough to recognize John. "Just let me..." John trailed off, reaching out for Pogo's hair again. Pogo grabbed his head and scooted away from John as fast as he could.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he exclaimed, glaring at John with an unrivaled conviction.

"Your hair is all messed up! You need to fix it!" John said, reaching for it once again.

"Don't touch my hair! It's not like yours is any better!"

The room fell silent apart from John's offended gasp. Ginger's head dropped in an 'oh my fucking God Pogo, you just went too far' motion and Twiggy giggled in anticipation. John flew from the chair and tackled Pogo to the ground, which wasn't hard, considering he was awkwardly sitting on the floor.

"What did you just say?" John hissed. Pogo's eyes were wide in surprise.

"I said your hair was beautiful and I wished mine looked the same," Pogo spat out in a rush so fast that his words were almost running together into one. John smiled.

"That's what I thought you said."

Yet again, the door opened. Marilyn stood there this time, looking confused and half-awake. His eyes were trained on the sight of John resting on Pogo's lap.

"Am I interrupting something? Because I can leave," Marilyn said, pointing to the door frame. Both John and Pogo were too stunned to speak and Twiggy was laughing too hard to say a word.

"It's fine, Marilyn. Pogo said something about John's hair, and-" Ginger was cut off.

"No need to explain. I already have a good idea of what happened," Marilyn said, sitting down in the chair next to Twiggy.

"Aw, I wanted you to sit next to me!" Twiggy whined, scooting over in his chair. There was less than a centimeter of space, definitely not something Marilyn could comfortably fit into.

Marilyn sighed, "Twiggy, I can't fit in there. Just come...sit on my lap or something."

"Okay!" Twiggy sprang to his feet and leaped onto Marilyn's lap, making himself comfortable.

"EW!" Pogo yelled, pointing at the two men sitting on top of one another while wrinkling their noses.

"Says Pogo, who's got John sitting on his lap," Marilyn shot back. Pogo shoved John off his lap, never removing his glare from Marilyn.

"C'mere, John," Ginger sighed. John snuck over to Ginger and sat on the carpeted floor by Ginger's feet. Ginger stroked John's hair.

"What's that?" Marilyn asked Pogo, pointing the the piece of paper on the floor. It, of course, was Pogo's drawing. But, of course, Pogo wasn't going to admit it because, of course, he didn't want his ass kicked.

"Nothing," Pogo said quickly, "Just a police report. No need to even see it. You probably have already."

In a fraction of a second, Twiggy sprang off of Marilyn, who dived for the picture. Pogo, too, dived onto said picture but was too late. Therefore, he began trying to pry Marilyn and the picture apart, which wasn't an easy task. Pogo was persistent, though, which really annoyed Marilyn sometimes. So, Marilyn did the easiest thing he could to. He used Pogo to push himself away by planting his feet on Pogo's legs and pushing. He caught himself on his arms and jumped up in the air.

The room fell dead silent as Marilyn looked at the picture. Everyone's mind was screaming the same thing in the same voice as the one kid from A Christmas Story: 'Pogo's gonna die!'

And then, Marilyn smirked. "I do have a sense of humor, you know." He dropped the picture and sat down again, Twiggy rejoining him on his lap. Pogo layed back onto the floor and stared at the ceiling, panting heavily.

After less than two minutes of side conversations, Pogo whined, "I'm bored!"

"Go find someone to play with then," Twiggy suggested. He'd meant it innocently enough but anyone else in the room with what preteens call a 'perverted mind' (meaning pretty much everyone, including Twiggy) registered it as something different.

"You know what? That sounds like a good idea," Pogo said, jumping up from the floor. He walked out the door and wandered to somewhere else within the hotel.

"So, are you two...y'know...dating?" Twiggy asked, pointing at Ginger and John. John looked at Ginger and Ginger looked at John, both of them smiling.

"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd call it," John said.

"Hah! So the Dope Hat worked!" Twiggy laughed.

"Yeah, on the second try," Ginger said, shuddering at the thought of Pogo kissing him, licking him, touching him, tearing off his clothes, grabbing his...it was almost too much to think about.

"There wasn't anyone to fucking play with," Pogo groaned, throwing himself onto the couch within seconds of him arriving in the room.

"Good God, there's got to be someone else in here, even just to talk to," Marilyn said. "It's a fucking hotel for God's sake! How many rooms are there?"

"You're probably right," Pogo said, pondering. Then, he screamed, "ZIM! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!"

"You called?" Tim Skold asked, popping his head into the room. His eyes were hopeful.

"I wanted Zim. Not you. Get out," Pogo directed.

"Zim went shopping with Abi and Elizabeth," Tim said sadly, then left, no matter how much he wanted to stay.

"That motherfucker!" Pogo yelled, slamming his fist into the couch. "Why does he have to be such a fashionista?!"

No one responded to that, so Pogo continued ranting.

"Now he's not here to actually have a good conversation with! And I don't want to get up and go fucking find him, so I fucking have to sit here and deal with all of you!" He turned to Ginger. "Ginger, entertain me."

"No, Pogo, I'm not your bitch!" Ginger said in defense of himself.

"It wasn't a question, Ginger."

"I think I have a say in what includes my own fucking body, thank you very much."

"Your welcome. But you still don't have a choice."

"I think I do."

"Twiggy, will you come here for a moment?" Pogo asked politely, sounding like a doctor or a dentist or something of the sort. Twiggy nodded and followed Pogo out into the hall. They exchanged a few words, then came back in.

"Ginger, Tim's wearing your hoodies again," Pogo said, pointing down the hall.

"That fucker! I told him 'no' hundreds of times!" Ginger shouted. He jumped up off the couch and stormed down the hall.

"NOW!" Pogo instructed. Both he and Twiggy ran after Ginger shouting "GET THE FISH!"

As they tackled him to the ground, Ginger could only say one thing: "Help, Marilyn, help!"